Take Me Away
by magentafeelings92
Summary: Brill. What if Zombie Brad had survived Raccoon City? Kept in captivity by Wesker, Brad gradually regains some human conscious in his undead state, as he patiently waits for his Amazon. Spans from RE3-RE5
1. Prologue: Nzambi

**Take Me Away **

**Prologue- Nzambi**

When Brad Vickers awoke at the entrance of the Raccoon City Police Station, the first sensations that he became aware of was that he could smell a distinct trace of blood...and an appetite for flesh. Ambling somewhat lazily to his feet, he staggered as his milky white eyes tried to perceive his surroundings. The stench of death filled his nostrils as he saw others hitting somewhat lamely against the gates. Brad turned his head away from them-they held no interest for him. He felt his gut twinge with impatience and looked down at his bloodied clothing. He noticed a bloody wound on his arm and hungrily bit down on the rotting flesh. In disgust he spat it out, the vile taste lingering in his mouth. In frustration, he let out an enraged moan, to the dark soulless sky.

The other monsters' moans began to disgruntle him, and so made the unconscious decision to stumble elsewhere. Moving one heavy foot at a time, he felt drawn to the brown oak doors of the station. Crawling at an excruciating pace, he finally reached the doors, and slammed at the wood with his limbs. The door remained closed, as Brad's temper increased. Gnashing his teeth, he pressed his whole body against the oak, but felt no movement. He began to make another attempt of breaking the door, when a faint smell of gunpowder and spice stopped him. His nostrils strained to the smell, as he scratched the door in hope of digging out the scent with his fingernails. Feeling brief confusion over the door and its familiarity, he moved away from the doors in boredom, the smell clouding his primal senses.

His blank eyes saw the disgruntled monsters on the other side of the gate and once again ignored their pathetic exploits. Standing statically to the spot, he felt a strong wind hit his body full force, and something square and white blew out of his jacket. In intense curiosity, Brad began to follow the flying white square, straining his unwilling limbs against the gust. The square landed on a stone wall, and as Brad stumbled towards it, it flew down below. Dragging his ankles, he swayed toward the dip in the ground, his eyes drinking in the shadowed place below. He paused at the descending shapes below him, and experienced unwillingness to go further. However, his curiosity got the better of his uncertainty, as he took a shaking step downwards. Alarmed, Brad felt his whole body hurl forwards, as he rolled to the hard ground.

Disorientated, he slumped to his feet, his milky eyes straining in the darkness around him. Identifying the white square in the darkness, he pushed his body towards it, as he craned his head to the ground. He saw a human smiling nervously at him, next to some black meaningless lines. He tossed his head in disgust as it did not seem edible, and began to trace his steps to the ascending shapes. He felt his foot catch on the stone however and stumbled face down on the shapes. Determined, he tried to crawl upwards but felt his body lag as he slipped backwards. In sheer frustration, he wandered away, crushing the card with his foot.

As he began contemplating over sampling a rather dead looking creature on the floor, he heard heavy breathing behind him. Turning slowly to see the source of the noise, he saw a human standing at the top of the shapes, looking at him in horror. Taking a couple steps towards her, Brad experienced two sensations- one of hunger and one of familiarity. As he moved closer to the unsteady human, once again the smell of spice and metal hit his nose, and he opened his mouth involuntarily. Gazing at the tensed, pained figure, he noticed its hands shakily wrapping around a metal, protruding object. Brad cocked his head at the strange device, and wondered vaguely if it would taste nice. The human stood there frozen, her hands clasped around the object, as her eyes leaked a watery substance. Brad took a step forward, his head tingling with something strange and unexpected, something deeper than hunger or physical pain. A roar suddenly cut the silence between them, as Brad saw fear pass the human's features, as she lowered its gun and ran away, not taking another glance at the underpass.

Brad stood there, swaying on the spot as he felt this unfamiliar desire pervade him. Stumbling back to the darkened spot, water began to run down his bloodied cheeks, blending into crimson droplets on the cold, hard, stone floor. Shaking his head, Brad inadvertently found himself mutter the word "Ill..." The word stung in his numb jaws and only continued the bitter flow of tears.

After what seemed to become an eternity to the zombie, he once again traced the scent of a human and turned his head hungrily. He saw an unfamiliar human walking through the darkness. Blinded by longing, Brad lunged towards it, grasping mere blue material in his teeth. The human cried in horror, and took out a similar metal object to that of the other human, but this one did not hesitate. Aiming it at Brad's torso, he shot something sharp and painful into his side. Brad fell forward to the ground, laying very still. He had the human's ample leg in sight, and waited patiently to make his move. To his despair however, the human moved to run away from him, giving Brad no time to prepare for the chase. He attempted to move, but found that his stiff limbs slowed him down. He moaned and screamed, but the human did not return.

Laying on the cool, stained floor Brad felt his energy ebb away to nothingness, as his hunger pains intensified. Watching a creature crawl across the floor, he reached out for it, but missed by the tips of his fingers. Giving up, Brad lay there, blood slowly forming around his dead body. Time stood still. Hours flew by as Brad was barely in a state of consciousness and he was spotted by another human. The human's clothes was a shade of red, which reminded Brad of food as he reached out to the human, gasping for flesh. The human aimed a different kind of metal object this time at Brad, and seconds later, he felt a sharp pain and numbness on his neck. Closing his clouded eyes, the last thing he saw was the approaching silhouette, speaking softly to herself.

(Woo! Bring on the Brill ;)


	2. Chapter One : Lost in Translation

(Mwahaha I stole the chap title, malibu ;)

**Chapter One- Lost in Translation**

_"You should stick up for yourself more, you know."_

_"What's the point of that? That'll just give them more of an excuse to laugh..."_

_"Ugh, Brad. You're not a bullied kid at high school. You're part of S.T.A.R.S for Christ's sake!"_

_"Yeah, but it's not like I'm important or anything. I'm just the pilot. The least dangerous job in the team. Not that I'm complaining..."_

_"Hmm, I don't know. You could crash and kill everybody!_

_"..."_

_"Or...maybe leave everyone stuck on a mountain or something during a rescue mission. 'Cos suddenly the team gets attacked by werewolves!"_

_"Shut up!"_

_"Aww, don't tell me you believe all that stuff...hey, maybe the zombies and vampires will join in and we'll be embroiled in some big Transylvanian nightmare!"_

_"Stop it!"_

_"Aww, loosen up Brad. I'm kidding. No wonder everyone calls you Chickenheart."_

_"Don't start!"_

_"Okay, okay I'm sorry. Friends?"_

_"..."_

_"C'mon, don't make me beg. That's not very gentlemanly."_

_"Okay, sure. It's just..."_

_"Uh oh, speaking of the big bad wolf...I gotta report to Wesker. See ya."_

_"Hey wait..."_

_"What?"_

_"..."_

_"Don't wuss out on me, Chickenheart. What?"_

_"Stop calling me that! I was gonna say...I wouldn't leave you to be eaten by werewolves."_

_"Aww, you're so sweet, you know that?"_

_"I mean it!"_

_"Well, to be honest Brad, I don't think you know what you're capable of until you do it."_

It seemed too bad that dreams performed no use to a zombie whatsoever. They never conveyed any sense to Brad, nor filled his howling bowels, yet they were all he had as he lay in confinement, mounted on some machine. A zombie had no need for sleep, but in Brad's case, it was all he could do to not close his sagging eyelids. Of course, the passing shapes outside of his glass coffin were enough to keep him alert. After all, they were what fed him unidentifiable carcasses whenever he was within an inch of starvation. Which was often.

Today was not feeding day, unfortunately. Brad hated being stuck in a container with no room or freedom. His rotting flesh seemed to crawl and scream with impatience, as he scratched at the glass surface. He caught the attention of one of the humans, who examined him coldly through the glass. Her mouth seemed to shape words, but Brad could not hear through the barrier, so he concentrated on her bandaged arm, smelling faint traces of blood, regardless of the glass separating them. He clamped his jaws together in anticipation, as the human rolled her eyes and walked away. Disappointed, Brad moaned softly, his decaying mind painfully reminding him of his last snack.

*

Brad was bored. And hungry. He sulked openly, as he gave an aloof stare at the monster beside him, in a similar coffin to him. He also seemed to be a fellow zombie, wearing bloodstained police clothing. The clothing provoked a feeling of familiarity in Brad, as he clanged his knuckles against the glass to catch the other zombie's attention. The other zombie groaned and turned his head away from him, as Brad caught a glimpse of meat in the other zombie's mouth. Infuriated, he groaned at the glass world. Why was he not fed whilst the other zombie got to gorge in front of him?

He began to thrust his rotting limbs at the glass, and to his surprise, the glass shattered and splintered before him. He fell to the ground, amazed at his own strength. He clambered to his feet, and leered at his surroundings. He looked at the bewildered zombie police officer, and gave him a toothy grin. He was going to find that smug woman earlier. His bowels growled in agreement.

Suddenly, red lights screeched around him, piercing a sharp pain in Brad's eardrum. He clamped his bloody hands to his ears, and stepped backwards. He howled when a piece of glass sliced his foot, and spun around to face the circular facility he was in. He limped away from his prison, the strong stench of blood and bleach hitting his nostrils. He could hear the protests from the other creatures in the glass coffins, all screaming for his liberty. Brad glared at them in triumph. He would be the one to taste that woman's flesh, to leave this prison, to see the sky...

Brad shook his head. He had no need for sky. He prompted himself on finding the woman from earlier. He swayed on the spot whilst straining his eyes for any human shapes nearby. He felt a rush of excitement when he saw a shadow by a metal machine, a shadow that smelled human. He limped towards it, feeling adrenaline pump through his dead body. Perhaps it was this strange surge of adrenaline that clouded his perceptions, and rendered him unaware when a man in a baggy white suit thrust a pointed needle into his arm. As quickly as it came, the adrenaline seeped away from his limbs, and was replaced by a cold numbness. He grunted in fury, as his body dragged in fatigue, and his eyes rolled as he thudded onto the metal grated floor. He could hear low voices echo the facility, in synch with the screeching red sirens. Somehow he sensed things would be different for him now. He was stronger than that police officer, and those other creatures. Surely. he would be rewarded for his unique abilities in flesh. This was the hope he held before drifting into unconsciousness.

Again, Brad was placed into a glass coffin, albeit a rather bigger, expansive one. The glass was noticeably thicker too, so there would be no more breakouts from him. Brad was grateful for the extra space, although bitter that escape had felt so close, and yet so far. Food was just as rare as before too, to his disappointment. And so, he found himself deep in dreams once again. Dreams of wind, rain, sky and a woman's voice...

(Ugh I fail. I'll be quicker updating next time. )


	3. Chapter Two: Behind the Glass

**Chapter Two- Behind the Glass**

_Again, sorry for the late update ;( _

Brad hated the place. He hated the narrow walls and thick glass, he hated the other pathetic prisoners, and he had even grown to tire of the food, limp and void of warmth or taste. More than anything else, he despised his captors. About once or twice a week, a man would pass his prison, and stop to examine him like some sort of pet, a smug smile stretched across his lips. Brad would bare his teeth at the man in warning, but this seemed to humour the man, and then he would walk away without another glance.

Something else irked Brad however. It was the fact that the man wore glasses, the kind that was as black as Brad's fingernails. He could not see the man's eyes, which gave Brad an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he was unable to look into the eyes of his antagonist. Brad was fascinated by eyes. They signified so many emotions- fear, anxiety, excitement. Plus eyes were quite crunchy, which served as a good appetizer. Nevertheless, they were valid reasons why the man upset him so much. He could not tell what the man was feeling when he looked at him, and this troubled him.

That day was different, though. When the man passed his prison, he stopped and touched the glass with a gloved hand, and he began to move his lips mutely, as Brad clawed at the glass for the man's fingers. Oh, to use his bones as a toothpick...

At that instant, Brad saw the man's eyes, for the first time. Not directly, as the man kept on his glasses, but glowing through the dark were blood red eyes. Inhuman. Piercing into his. This struck fear in Brad's slowly beating heart, as he fell backwards and crouched in a cobwebbed corner of the glass cage. He cowered, shielding his eyes from the crimson glare, letting out pained wails. Time crawled by, before he could look through the glass again. To his relief, the man had left, and that burning stare with him. Brad lolled weakly, his head tingling from the shock. He never wanted to see those eyes again.

Brad had no sense of time. Days either went too quickly or too slowly, depending on the quantity of flesh he was fed that day. There was no sun or moon in the skyless cell. There was only spiders, and cream tiles which smelled faintly of detergent. Brad felt constantly lost, in time, place, and everything else that was happening to him. More than anything, Brad wanted something to understand, a purpose to survive for. He found nothing. In depression, he leaned his limp body against the glass in boredom. It was times like these when he wished he had a cellmate to share his confusion, to grunt in agreement or roar at in rage. Someone to guffaw with when he woke up screaming from a bad dream. He would even share some of his meal with it, as long as it would do the same for him. Sadly, Brad was isolated in his solitary confinement, and the other creatures he had seen during his imprisonment were unworthy of his generosity or understanding. So Brad had remained alone for a long time, taunted by his captors and by his own painful dreams.

One morning, Brad awoke to an excited bustle amongst the prison. He peered out of his glass to make sense of what was going on when, to his surprise, it was the man in the glasses, an indignant expression on his face. Brad instinctively shrunk away from the figure- those eyes still sent a shiver down his spine- and to confirm his worst fears, he caught another glimpse of those dreaded red eyes. He backed away from the glass cautiously.

He dared to catch another glance and felt his jaw twitch when he realised that it was not the man's eyes this time, but the creature behind him. The creature was wearing a long, dark coat, and a face similar to that of a bird. However, her eyes were a glowing red, which Brad recognised were akin to the other man's eyes. When the creature turned her head in his direction, Brad's body froze. He felt his flesh stiffen and the hairs on his neck stand up. However, he experienced a strong wave of courage as he stood his ground unflinchingly glaring into those eyes.

He began to feel startled when she returned his gaze, boring her eyes into his, and she began to walk towards his confinement. Bile rose in his throat, but he merely swallowed, his feet twitching for retreat. As she approached the glass, he concentrated on his uneven, dirty toenails, refusing to meet the creature's eyes. He heard a soft thud against the glass and shut his eyes. He warily opened them to see a gloved hand resting on the glass. Bewildered, he looked at the creature, it's face still, releasing no obvious signs of emotion. There was something different about the creature however, and Brad felt his decaying palm touch the glass, its cold surface tingling his fingertips.

He began to contemplate trying to break the glass again at that moment when the man in the glasses returned, and swiftly, the bird creature turned sharply away from him and followed the man out of sight, into the darkness.

Brad felt his loneliness biting at his mind as he slumped down against the glass. The creature had troubled him. She was no undead monster, for Brad could sense that she was very much alive. She was no human either though, for those eyes...

Brad's musings were quickly interrupted when he noticed that food was arriving. He clambered up from the floor, his enthusiasm for his meals returning. Thinking too hard made him ravenous.

It was many days until Brad saw the bird lady again. She seemed to be able to walk freely around the establishment, which annoyed him. He wondered why she deserved special privileges over the other captives who were contained permanently. Just then, a thought struck him. What if she was one of _them_? He scowled at the thought. He didn't like the idea of her being part of the reason he was stuck in this prison. That would only mean that she was the enemy, and that would mean that Brad would have to hate her along with the rest of his current confinement.

So when she began to head in his general direction, he made sure to snarl ferociously at her, so that she knew of his contempt. This didn't faze her however, as she confidently stood before the glass.

Brad was disappointed. Most of the other people in the place stood back in fear whenever he made that threatening expression. Not her, though. She knelt beside the glass, her fingers stroking the glass.

Brad stared at her, confused. What did she want from him? She wasn't taunting, like the man in the dark glasses, but wasn't she his enemy? Brad felt his head throb in confusion, but shook off the protruding thoughts. He knelt to her level and merely stared at her crouched figure, wondering what kind of creature she was. His eyes travelled to her fingers on the glass, and backed away in shock. Something small and silver was clasped around her fingers. She was scratching at the glass with it. He felt a moment of euphoria. She was helping him to escape!

In that instant, Brad decided that the bird woman was not an enemy, but an ally. After all, she did not act like the other captors, and something about her was just...different from the rest.

To his disappointment, she stopped abruptly and looked at Brad expectedly. He groaned audibly. He thumped his hand on the glass to signal her to continue, but she shook her head, and pointed to the glass. He rolled his eyes, and looked at the area where she was gesturing to.

There were scratches on the surface. They seemed to shape something. Brad narrowed his eyes.

_H-I._

He blinked. What did that mean? He looked at the creature, perplexed. The bird woman continued to point at the scratches, and then waved her other palm at him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Brad could remember watching people outside his cell doing something similar. They seemed to do it whenever they saw each other.

Hesitantly, Brad raised his hand and clumsily waved it, his joints creaking to the motion.

The bird woman promptly lifted herself from the floor, waving her hand once again, and turned away from him, as some people in lab coats were gesturing her to follow them. Sadly, Brad watched the shrinking figure, tracing the place where she had etched the shapes

That was his first night without the dreams**. **


End file.
